


The First Lunch Date: Oysters in Rome

by EternalFiction



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Confusion, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Lunch, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Sassy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sassy Crowley (Good Omens), Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalFiction/pseuds/EternalFiction
Summary: Crowley has never eaten an oyster, nor has he ever eaten lunch with Aziraphale, but both of those facts would change that day.





	The First Lunch Date: Oysters in Rome

"Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable.” Crowley was in a very bad mood and he wanted a very large drink of anything that could pass for alcohol. Just when he was starting to have fun, Hell decided to send him to Rome for some frivolous temptation. He hated how they never gave him any advanced notice when they were going to ship him off to another country.

“Crawly-Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice pulled him back to reality. He was so irritated that he didn’t register Aziraphale’s presence when he walked into the bar, he didn’t even see him. Aziraphale sat beside him, a slightly nervous smile on his face. “Well, fancy running into you here. Still a demon, then?” Huh?

“What kind of stupid question is that, ‘Still a demon?’ What else am I going to be, an aardvark?” He snapped. Aziraphale was well aware that it was impossible for Crowley to become an angel again. It’s been over 4,000 years and things like this is why he still didn’t understand Aziraphale at all. Aziraphale was just very confusing, since the moment he met him. He had given away his God-given sword to help Adam and Eve, but later stood by and did nothing while children drowned. In both situations he didn’t like what was going on, so there must have been a reason why he didn’t try to intervene at the ark. He could have tried to prevent it before it happened, and could have been turned away, dismissed, or even ignored. And maybe it was one of those things that if he did do something, he would have been severely punished. But he got away with the sword, so Crowley was just confused. The one thing he did know was that he thought of Aziraphale as a friend, even if they haven’t really talked much. How could he not with how he acted towards him at Eden? He knew Aziraphale was different from the rest of the angels then, and he had hoped that he could also see what was wrong with this whole situation. But he didn’t. And recently Crowley had started to think that he wasn’t sure  _ how _ to be his friend, or if he should even try.

“Salutaria.” Aziraphale said, snapping Crowley out of his thoughts. And when Crowley looked over he was also holding a drink, offering a toast. Crowley hesitated but accepted his toast and then turned back away from him and took a sip. “In Rome long?” Crowley really wasn't up for making small talk with him but it felt wrong to ignore him.

“Just nipped in for a quick temptation.” Those bastards made him get on a boat—you can secure more souls on the way—only to stay in Rome for a couple days and then send him off again. “You?” He asked, because he was wondering if he was going to have to deal with any thwarting.

“I thought I’d try Petronius’ new restaurant. I hear he does remarkable things to oysters.” Interesting. No reaction to hearing that he was going to try to secure souls for Hell. And Aziraphale seemingly wasn't here on business. Was he only here for, dare he say, pleasure? It was possible.

“I’ve never eaten an oyster.” He admitted, taking a sip of his drink. He was in a slightly better mood now, being around Aziraphale always made him feel better. And Crowley had tried some food before, but the only thing he really wanted to put into his body was alcohol so he didn’t eat often.

“Oh. Oh, well, let me tempt you to—” Crowley turned to face him very quickly. “Oh, no. No, that’s—that’s your job, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said with a nervous smile. Crowley took a sip of his drink, very amused. It instantly erased the rest of his foul mood. 

“Yeah but you’re doing a fine job.” He said with a wink. Aziraphale huffed.

“I simply misspoke. I was only asking if you care to join me for lunch.” Well that was new. Their relationship to this point had consisted of brief conversations out in the open, surrounded by others. And it was always Crowley who instigated them. And because of that, he didn’t know what Aziraphale actually thought of him, if he wanted to be talking to him or was just being kind. But now  _ Aziraphale  _ was instigating a more prolonged, more private conversation and Crowley didn’t know what to think.

“Not worried what your side would think of an angel dining with a demon?” Crowley asked, looking intently at Aziraphale. Aziraphale took a sip of his drink, trying to hide the fear in his eyes.

“Well, when you’re with me, you can’t do any tempting...and Heaven would like that.” He said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Crowley was very surprised. He thought by reminding him they were on opposite sides he would realize they can't just have lunch together. Talking for a few minutes is one thing, that could be reasoned away, at least on Crowley’s side. But sharing a meal is something you just do not do with your enemy, it really can’t be explained away. And knowing that, Aziraphale instead made an attempt to explain it away anyway. Either Aziraphale really wanted to show off how good oysters were, or he really wanted to eat lunch with him. And Crowley didn't know which one was right. And it freaked him out. No one in Hell would invite him to anything unless there was an alternative motive, and even then he didn’t get asked much. And here was his hereditary enemy, the one person in the entire universe he shouldn't hang out with, possibly trying very hard to spend time with him. And that would mean, all this time, Aziraphale wasn’t humoring him or just being nice, but was talking to him because he wanted to. Crowley felt oddly warm, an echo of a feeling he once knew rising in his chest. This was a bad idea, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

“Right. And when you're with me, you can't spread any holiness, which Hell approves of." Crowley said, equally as convincingly. Aziraphale nodded.

“Exactly. So I should see no problem. Shall we?” Aziraphale asked, setting down his drink, not finishing it. Crowley knocked back the rest of his and flipped a denarius on the bar for the bartender.

“Sure.” They got up from their seats and walked out of the bar, Aziraphale leading the way. "You eat often?" Crowley asked, curious. He really didn’t know much about Aziraphale. From their previous conversations he only knew that Aziraphale cared enough about humans to give them his flaming sword even though he was worried that he shouldn’t have, needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing in giving them the flaming sword, was generally anxious, tried to look on the bright side of the Great Flood, and for some reason thought Crowley’s new name would be Asmodeus. Which completely threw Crowley for a loop because Asmodeus meant lust and Crowley didn’t think he did anything lustful around the angel to give him that idea. And after going over their conversations in his mind to confirm that he indeed didn’t, Crowley came to the conclusion that Aziraphale had just assumed that he often tempted humans into lust since he was a demon. Though Crowley never—wait Aziraphale was talking now.

"—find it quite enjoyable. The flavors humans can create are astonishing. It is a wonderful experience." Aziraphale said.

"Yeah it is." Crowley agreed, not expecting such a passionate response.

"You think so too?" Aziraphale asked, turning toward him with a bright smile. Crowley blinked. He had never been the recipient, or the apparent cause, of such pure joy.

"Uh yeah. I don't eat often, don't really have a craving too, but I appreciate the craft."

"It's amazing what they can do. With just some herbs and spices they can turn something bland into a complex layering of flavors. They’ve figured out which pairings enhance the overall dish and which ones completely ruin it. With food sources more available and stable now, they have been allowed to experiment and perfect their recipes to create never before—oh I'm rambling aren't I?" He asked, smiling sheepishly.

"It's fine."

"Is it?" He asked, wringing his hands, and Crowley understood the weight of the question.

"Of course. There's nothing wrong in enjoying the products of Her creations. It's a good thing to love what they have done, angels are all about love last time I checked."

"Yes. You are correct." Aziraphale said, relaxing his hands. 

"You have a favorite food?"

"Oh I couldn't choose. But I do really love sweets. You?"

"Alcohol."

"That's not a food."

"It can come from food."

"Technically. But you can't chew it."

"Well then I guess eggs." He said, shrugging. "I like eggs." Aziraphale seemed very amused by his phrasing. Aziraphale always presented as a higher class, Crowley noticed, so his way of speaking was more refined than Crowley’s.

"Eggs are quite good." He replied.

"Who would've thought we would have something in common." Crowley wondered out loud. Aziraphale looked at him and then at something in the distance.

"Yes. Quite unexpected." Aziraphale said, not hiding his disbelief nearly as well as he probably thought he did. "We are almost at the restaurant."

"Oh. Great." Crowley said, adjusting his head piece and clothes, suddenly aware that his attire didn't match Rome's current fashion.

"You look fine." Aziraphale said with a reassuring smile as they reached the door. "After you." He held the door open and gestured into the restaurant.

"Thanks." Crowley mumbled, glad he didn't have to thank him directly for the compliment. He felt warm again. Aziraphale led him to a table in the back corner, where they couldn't be seen from the front door, but they could see if anyone entered. "Nice place." Crowley said, looking around. He saw a young man starting to make his way toward them.

"Yes. I like the decor."

“Welcome. What would you like today?” The young man asked with a fake smile. Crowley immediately knew that he was a slave.

“A dozen oysters please.” Aziraphale ordered very politely.

“And whatever alcohol pairs well.” Crowley added.

“Of course. I’ll bring out your drinks first.” And he walked back to the bar.

“So, how do you feel about Petronius using slaves to wait his restaurant? I, for one, find it wrong.” Crowley asked, leaning back into his chair. Aziraphale met his eyes. His blue eyes were piercing.

“It is horrible to own another human being. I believe it should be illegal.”

“And yet you’ll eat his food.” 

“By giving him business, I help make sure that he can afford to give his slaves a place to stay, and food to eat.”

“Housed and well fed or not, they’re still slaves. Why don’t you free them or convince Petronius to?”

“I’m not allowed to do that. Gabriel would be mad.” Aziraphale looked sad, and a little afraid. Crowley felt a little sad himself, seeing Aziraphale sad, but he also felt unusually angry. Not at Aziraphale though.

“You can’t just mess around with his brain?” Aziraphale looked sternly at him as the waiter put their drinks down on the table.

“I do not tamper with their brains Cra-Crowley. That could have deadly consequences. And like I said, I can’t interfere. But what about you? Can’t you do something? Or would that be too much of a good deed?” Aziraphale said, taking a sip of his drink. He’s a sassy angel apparently.

“Hands are tied just like yours.” He said, taking a long swig of his drink. They were silent for a few moments as they drank.

“So, why did you cut your hair?” Aziraphale asked.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley teased. 

“I never said that. It’s very stylish actually. It’s just such a drastic change.” Crowley shrugged, strangely happy that Aziraphale liked his hair.

“Just felt like it one day.” He looked closer at him. “Yours looks basically the same.”

“It’s a little different.” Aziraphale said, slightly defensive.

“You’re right. It’s more...feathery.”

“Exactly.” Aziraphale said with a nod, which was cute. Cute? Crowley took a long gulp of his drink, contemplating. Yeah the angel was cute he could admit. Nothing wrong about stating the obvious, not that doing the wrong thing was a bad thing for Crowley. Crowley barely registered the oysters being delivered to the table. “Thank you.” Aziraphale said, smiling happily. Crowley looked away. 

“Would you like more drinks?”

“Yes.” Crowley replied instantly.

“Right away sir.”

“Oh these look marvelous.” Aziraphale said, smiling wide. They did look really good. And smelled even better. Crowley detected wine and honey in the sauce. Aziraphale picked one up and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “So what you want to do is, for lack of a better word, slurp it from the wide end. Chew it a couple times and then swallow.” And then he demonstrated. His eyes were closed from the moment the shell touched his lips to a few seconds after he swallowed. He really seemed to focus and savor the flavors he was experiencing. “Oh.” He breathed. Crowley suddenly felt he was intruding on something private. “That was delicious.” He said, opening his eyes.

“Here are your drinks.” The waiter said. Crowley didn’t even look at him.

“Thank you and could you tell the cook that these oysters are absolutely delightful?” The waiter smiled, more genuinely.

“Sure. He’d be happy to hear.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said, smiling brightly. Crowley couldn’t stop staring at him. It was lucky he was wearing sunglasses because he hasn’t blinked in a long time. “Now you try one.” Without a word he took one from the plate and copied what Aziraphale did. It wasn’t as salty as he expected, and the texture was smooth, like butter. It was one of the best things Crowley had ever tasted.

“They are delicious.” Crowley admitted, putting the shell down on the plate.

“I’m glad you like them.” Aziraphale said, relieved. “I hoped you would.” He took another oyster from the plate and held it between them. “Salutaria.” Crowley grabbed an oyster and tapped it against Aziraphale’s. 

“Salutaria.” Crowley repeated, and they slurped their oysters. This was going better than he thought it would, Crowley mused as he sipped his drink. They actually had something in common, which he didn’t expect. Aziraphale was still having trouble remembering his new name, but he did know him as Crawly for 4,000 years so Crowley could see how the adjustment could be hard. And he really needed to get better at starting conversations. “Why did you ask me if I was still a demon?” Crowley asked as he put his mug down, finally starting to feel the fuzzy effects of the alcohol. Aziraphale’s cheeks reddened slightly and Crowley felt a different feeling grow in his chest. He didn’t really know what it was. Maybe the alcohol was a bad idea.

“I honestly don’t know. It just came out.” He replied. "And you had every right to be annoyed. It was a very stupid question."

"I was already annoyed. Don't feel too bad about it." He said, taking another oyster.

"About what?"

"Work." Crowley replied, tossing the shell back on the plate. "I was just starting to have a good time when they sent me out here. And I had to get on a boat; I hate boats.”

“Why do you hate boats?” Aziraphale asked.

“I don’t like being tossed all over the place when the waves get high.”

“Oh that’s never fun. I even get a little sick sometimes.”

“You get seasick?” Aziraphale shook his head.

“Nothing that serious. I just feel very dizzy, sometimes nauseous. The first few days on the ark were dreadful.” The alcohol was very much a bad idea because the next words out of Crowley’s mouth came out without being filtered.

“You know, I’m confused that you cared for humanity enough to give away your sword but not enough to stop children from drowning.” Instantly Aziraphale’s expression became pained and Crowley realized what he had just said. "Shit. I didn't-I-I'm not-don't be-shit." Crowley rushed out, panicked. He didn't want to ruin this. "Forget what I was saying. I don't want to start anything." Aziraphale lowered his eyes and Crowley wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

"I wasn't happy that I had to let the children die you know." Aziraphale said quietly. “I did ask if it was absolutely necessary, and I was told it was part of Her Plan. And I can’t go against that.”

“I’m...sorry.” Crowley said. And he was. For souring the mood, for bringing up a painful memory, but also for the fact that Aziraphale’s faith in Her was absolute. And Crowley knew that was never going to change. Even if they had a thousand things in common, it was the one difference that threatened to break whatever fragile relationship they had been building. At the end of the day, they were on opposite sides. They were supposed to be enemies for a reason. But they really weren’t, Crowley thought, stealing a glance at Aziraphale, who was sitting with perfect posture, staring into his drink, his expression slightly somber. Crowley, after Eden, never personally considered Aziraphale an enemy, not ever, not even now. He still thought of him as a friend, and even though he was a little sad that Aziraphale was still very much an angel, he was happy that he wasn’t a mindless follower. Aziraphale wasn’t always happy with obeying, with being faithful. He didn’t like some of the aspects of his job, but he couldn’t do anything about it, not only because there would be consequences, but because he still had hope. He still believed that his job would lead to a greater good. And Crowley could respect that. He himself tried to lessen the negative impact that his temptations would cause. But what always made Crowley think that they could maintain whatever this was, was that Aziraphale showed him kindness when there was no reason to. He protected him, someone he had just met and a demon who questioned God, from danger. It showed that his default reaction to others was kindness, to lend a helping hand, even to those he shouldn’t. And Crowley thought that was remarkable, and he still does. And if Aziraphale could put aside their differences then, then Crowley should be able to do it now. He felt that’s what friends would do. Crowley snuck another glance at Aziraphale and he still looked glum. He felt guilty for dampening Aziraphale's mood and wanted to do something to fix it. He looked at the oysters and noticed they had gone cool, the sauce solidifying, so he snapped and returned them to the preferred temperature. Aziraphale looked back at him and then to the oyster plate with a raised eyebrow but didn't say anything. Instead, he grabbed one, stared at it for a couple seconds with an expression Crowley couldn't determine, and then ate it as usual. 

"If I saw these in the wild, and didn't know they were edible, I don't think I would try to find out if they were." Crowley wondered out loud. Aziraphale nodded in agreement, smiling again.

"Neither would I. Seems too risky."

"I would not want to explain that discorporation." Aziraphale hummed and sipped his drink.

“And there would be so much paperwork.” He said, grabbing another oyster. “Really not worth it.” Crowley watched him eat it without really knowing why. Maybe because he wasn’t used to seeing such a pure smile, one that wasn’t cruel or threatening. When Aziraphale reached for his glass, Crowley reached for his own as well. He knew the alcohol wasn’t helping both the warm and the odd feeling swirling around in his chest, but it was keeping him more relaxed than he would have been sober.

“They make good alcohol here.” Crowley stated.

“Other than wine. They water it down so tremendously that you lose all complexity of the flavor.”

“Good to know." Crowley swirled the drink in his mug. "I rather like wine."

"So do I. It's my preferred drink." Aziraphale said.

"No surprise there." Crowley said with a smile. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and took another sip, failing to hide the amused smile on his face. "You like red or white?"

"Red."

"How surprising. Another thing we have in common." Aziraphale smiled, a small, shy one. One that said he shouldn’t be happy, but is anyway.

"It is nice to be able to have a conversation with someone of similar tastes.” 

“Tell me about it. The other demons have horrible taste. Could never hold a decent conversation with them.” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up like Crowley had never seen. They were as bright as a clear noon sky, and just as piercing blue. It was a look of realization, of shocked joy.

“Yes. It is...hard to talk to those who don’t share your interests.” Aziraphale said, his voice much calmer than his eyes, and Crowley understood what he truly meant. That echo of a feeling felt like a scream now, desperate, needy. It was a feeling of belonging, of being wanted. Crowley hadn't felt this way since before he Fell and he didn't expect to feel it again. It seemed they both weren’t very popular with their respective coworkers and felt like they couldn’t get along with them easily. Crowley was beginning to understand that what he felt before wasn’t friendship. It was fascination, maybe admiration, but not really friendship. The comfort, the joy, the relief swelling in his chest, the fact that he no longer felt alone, that was friendship. Aziraphale was looking down, but Crowley could still see how his eyes still shone with pure joy, betraying the calm expression he was putting forward as he drank. Crowley hoped Aziraphale was having a similar revelation. The eyes were the hardest to control when hiding emotions, which was one of the reasons Crowley wore sunglasses. He wasn't sure how Aziraphale would react if he was able to see his eyes right now. Crowley focused on not draining the entire mug in one gulp. He thought about the odds of a demon who didn’t belong in Hell and an angel who didn’t fit in with Heaven not only meeting, but actually getting along. The odds were cosmically not in their favor and yet, here they were. "I know you said it would be quick, but how long are you planning to stay in Rome?" Aziraphale suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"I'll be leaving in a couple days. Got another assignment after this one."

"Hmmm." Was all he said, his brow furrowed.

"You're not going to try to thwart me, are you?" Crowley groaned. He didn't want that. He didn't want to have to fight him. Aziraphale shook his head.

"I won't be able to. I have to stay here, help convert the Romans to Christianity."

"Isn't it illegal?"

"Your point?"

"Isn't breaking the law a bad thing?"

"Some laws shouldn't exist." Aziraphale said with an air of divine dignity. Crowley smiled.

"I agree. I'm all for not following rules I don't like." Aziraphale gave him a pointed stare but didn't comment. "Just watch your back. Wrath and envy are all over this town." Aziraphale was visibly taken aback and didn't speak for a couple seconds.

"I will." He said, regaining composure. "And you have safe travels." Crowley nodded.

“Does your lot let you teleport or do they make you travel like a human to acquire more souls?” Crowley asked, still mad about the boat and wanted to know if it was just a demon thing to be so pushy about getting souls.

“They generally make me travel like a human. I only teleport if I have to arrive someplace immediately.” Crowley grunted.

“So both sides try to cram in as much work as physically possible. You know if they want more work done they can send more agents? There’s 50 million humans now and we’re still the only ones here all the time.” Aziraphale nodded.

“It is getting a lot to handle. It would be nice to have more permanent help.”

“But they’re not going to send anyone else because no one else wants to be on Earth for long periods of time.” Aziraphale hesitated slightly before responding, and Crowley could tell he was deciding whether or not to say something he was thinking.

“The other angels have shown some confusion as to why I like it down here, why I would want to stay.” Aziraphale said, sounding as neutral as he could.

“Because it’s fun!” Crowley exclaimed. “The humans are so interesting and what they’ve created is way better than anything we have in Hell.” Aziraphale smiled, excited.

“Have you heard the music they’ve composed? It’s so different from the celestial harmonies.” The one good thing about being Fallen is that he didn’t have to listen to those harmonies anymore.

“It’s so much better! And they can dance! They create movements that go with the melody, with the beat.” When demons got together and danced, it wasn’t pretty. Angels can’t dance either and that’s why they don’t. They care a lot about their image.

“Isn’t their dancing amazing?” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I had no idea that a narrative could be told through movements.” Crowley gestured agreeably. 

“Humans are my personal favorite creations of Hers. It sucks that our lots just see them as souls to collect.”

“I agree. They have their flaws of course, but they are extraordinary creatures.” Crowley leaned forward and put his elbow on the table, pointing at Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t flinch or attempt to move away. His eyes just flicked to his hand and back to his face.

“You know what I think is a flaw? The Earth is mostly ocean and they can’t breathe underwater.” 

“She must have not wanted them to live underwater.” 

“But it’s so much wasted real estate.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Must not have been in Her Plan.” Crowley leaned back in his chair. He was starting to pick up that any conversation directly questioning why She made something the way it was wasn’t going to be very engaging with Aziraphale always writing it off as part of the Plan. 

“Well at least She made them smart because physically they’re defenseless against the deadlier predators.” Crowley said, changing the direction of the conversation. “They don’t have claws, fangs, venom, or natural armor, and they aren’t nearly as strong, as big, or as fast as they need to be to stand a chance.”

“It was very good that She gave them the ability to invent and create. Remember when they first made the wheel? It made traveling a lot faster.” 

“I remember when they first made alcohol. Great day that was.”

“That was pretty early on if I recall. It took them a while to perfect the process though. It was so sour in the beginning.” Crowley hummed in agreement.

“If it makes their lives easier, more fun, or numbs their pain, they are quick to invent it." Aziraphale nodded.

"They're constantly trying to improve, trying to become better, to be better."

"Sometimes they take it too far." Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. "Even without help." Crowley emphasized. "But they really just want to live a happy life." Aziraphale hummed, taking an oyster from the pale. 

"Oh, they've gone cold again." He remarked, frowning at it. Crowley snapped immediately and Aziraphale smiled that small, shy smile again. Crowley could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, and that the different feeling in his chest was the cause of it. Crowley realized two things then. He realized that he would do anything to make Aziraphale smile, and that he would have to absorb some knowledge about whatever was happening in his chest at a later date. They finished the rest of the oysters without talking, not wanting them to get cold again. Crowley was feeling very happy, very comfortable. But there was still that fear in the back of his mind, the fear of being caught. If Heaven or Hell found out about them being friends, the consequences would be severe. But he also knew Hell and Heaven didn’t really check up on anything, so as long as they’re not spotted in person they should be fine. And as long as they keep their meetings short, the likelihood of someone spotting them is slim, since there’s hardly anyone else around. But if they were caught, it would be better for a demon to catch them, because Crowley can lie and say he’s tempting him, trying to get him to Fall. But there’s not many excuses for Aziraphale; it’s not like he can make Crowley an angel again. The only reason for him to be talking to him and not trying to thwart or smite him would be because he wanted to. And with that fact and how this lunch had gone, Crowley thought it was safe to feel that their friendship was mutual, even if Aziraphale couldn’t call him a friend. And Crowley was fine with that. He had always believed actions spoke louder than words.

"Would you gentleman like anything else?" The waiter said, shattering the silence between them, causing them both to jump slightly. Crowley didn't like that someone had snuck up on him.

"No thank you." Aziraphale said with a smile.

"How much is it?" Crowley asked. The waiter blinked, surprised slightly.

"Three denarius." Crowley put his hand in his pouch and miracled that amount plus a generous tip. He placed the money in his outstretched hand. The waiter looked at it and his eyes widened. "Sir, this is…"

"Keep it." Crowley said, waving his hand.

"Thank you." The waiter said, smiling wide and walking away.

"Why, that was very ni—"

"Shut up." Crowley hissed, standing up from the table and walking away. He heard Aziraphale stand up quickly and hurry after him. 

“Where are you headed?” Aziraphale asked, walking by his side. Crowley shrugged.

“Don’t know. Figured I’d walk around the city. Take in the sites. Stir up some trouble.” He said, opening the door and kicking it so it stays open long enough for Aziraphale to pass through. “You?”

“I’m heading to the library.” Still no attempt to stop his mischief Crowley noticed. “I still have half of the available scrolls to read through.”

“Can’t you just miracle the knowledge into your brain?” Crowley asked, confused.

“Well, yes. But it’s not as fun.”

“Fun?” Crowley scoffed in disbelief.

“When you read the words as humans do, they create a picture, a scene in your mind. You get detached from the sensations around you, and you only feel what the story makes you feel. It’s...” Aziraphale tapered out while glancing quickly at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a wonderful pastime.” He said, and Crowley knew while it was true, it wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“Then you’d really like sleeping. It’s pretty similar except you’re the one making the story.”

“You sleep?” Aziraphale asked, turning towards him, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. Do it all the time. Highly recommend.” Aziraphale looked forward again.

“I don’t think it’s for me.”

“You didn’t even consider it.” Crowley accused, mildly insulted. Aziraphale smirked slightly.

“I did. And I didn’t like the notion of doing nothing for hours at a time.”

“Right. Because you let an angel _relax_ for a couple hours and then they’ll just slide right into sloth and wouldn’t fill out _any_ _paperwork_.” Aziraphale chuckled and then stopped himself, clearing his throat. That was only the second time Crowley heard the angel laugh, and it was even more wonderful than he remembered it to be.

“We’re almost at the library.” Aziraphale said, pointing to the building about 30 seconds away. “Would you like to come inside?” Crowley did, but he didn't want to press his luck. 

“Nah. Should probably get back to business.” The quicker Crowley finished his temptation the quicker he could get drunk and go to sleep. Aziraphale looked the smallest bit disappointed but smiled brightly nonetheless. They stopped at the base of the stairs.

“Ah. Then I wish you well.”

“Yeah.” Crowley said lamely, turning around and walking away. “See you around Angel.” He said, doing a half wave, not looking back. He wasn't surprised to feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, watching him walk away until he was out of sight. Crowley didn't know when the next time he would see Aziraphale would be, but he hoped it would be soon. And he hoped they could have lunch again.

**Author's Note:**

> A denarius is a silver coin, $4 approximately 
> 
> I had a hard time writing this one but I pushed through and finished it! Don't be discouraged if your story takes multiple rewrites and restarts to be complete. Sometimes it's just difficult to find the right wording, flow, or a coherent theme and it helps if you step back and don't think about it for a couple days. Let your brain rest and think of things in the background and when you come back to it, it will be easier.


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